You came at a time when I wasn’t expecting anyone, nor looking for that matter. But you came. You were there. You appreciated who I was. You showed me my strength. You gave me a high. You helped me take flight. You made me soar. You were my lift.
But what happened?
Just when I got so used to having your arms around me, and my hand in yours... just when I needed you... I lost you. And without your lift, I went from a gentle glide to a steep dive. And the harsh reality is, the higher one flies, the harder one falls... and the worse it hurts.
I never learned my lesson. I’ve soared several times before. I’ve plummeted several times as well. And been hurt even more. But still, I’ve always wanted to fly. Everyone deserves to fly.
I opened myself up to you. I broke down my walls for you. But what happened? I was left standing there, bare of the walls that used to protect and comfort me. I shuddered with every gust of wind against my nakedness.
And these walls, they would have been as easy to build as they were to break down. But walls, they’re only as strong as the foundation upon which they stand. And with every ray of self-doubt and every drop of insecurity you brought me, the elements eroded my foundation.
Was that it? Was that all you needed from me? It hurt to have to second guess myself. Paranoid? Yes, I am. And with hundreds of questions without answers, I had no choice but to be.
What changed? What happened? Why did you seem so distant? Why did you disappear? Was it something about me?
Now, I’ve been slowly trying to pick up the pieces. Trying to convince myself that I wasn’t broken. Trying to forget. Trying to move on.
And now, you choose to make your presence felt... again. Why now? Why just now?
Has anyone else had a song written for and dedicated to them? It would be the most wonderful and flattering thing, right? It should be. But right now, it’s not. Not yet. It just reminds me of all my weaknesses you exposed... all my insecurities that I’ve been trying so hard to forget.
I promised myself I wouldn’t cry. And I won’t. If there’s one thing you taught me, it’s that I am strong. I will be strong.
I’ve been playing it over and over and over for the past five hours now. I’m going to keep on playing it until I’m numb. Until all the questions stop. Until it no longer hurts. It’s my fault. Just give me time.
But regardless, the song is beautiful. Thank you. Thank you.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
The Song
Friday, April 24, 2009
Tang-in-Emo
This will be an emo post. Consider yourself warned.
I always pride myself with being a natural loner, not needing anyone to complete me. I guess it’s still true. But, man, I can’t deny I’d love to have five fingers to weave into my own, along with the hand and the arm and the rest of the person of course.
Okay, I admit, I’m miserably single right now.
Initially, when I decided to get tested for HIV, other than the fact that I just wanted to know, it was supposed to be my turning point – my turning point towards getting back on the righteous path again. Relatively righteous, that is.
You see, ever since, I was a serial relationship-guy. Note that I didn’t say “serial monogamist”, because I’d be a hypocrite to claim that. I mean to say that I’d been getting into relationship after relationship since my first boyfriend back when I was 21. I don’t really know if I fall easily or just can’t pass up the chance to get to know a guy better, but I preferred to be in relationships rather that make the rounds and sleep around. As such, I felt I never gave myself time to just hook up as hooking up is meant to be.
So after my last relationship back in 2007, I decided I’d give myself a break. I made the conscious decision not to jump into the next possible relationship right away. It was a commitment in itself... to myself. I meant it so badly that I got myself a ring – a symbol of my commitment to myself – an ode to singlehood.
Between that time and the time I got tested, I was literally slutting around. I had regular fuck buddies who kept me busy, more that I’d ever been. I admit, there were times that the potential for a relationship came up, but I treated those as mere temptation, and brushed past them soon enough.
It was in 2008 that I met one guy who caused me to consider getting back into relationship mode again. And based on mere potential, I decided that enough was enough. I felt I’d exhausted the meat market more than I needed to.
And so, to mark a turning point in my life, I got tested. I dreamt of offering myself completely and purely to the guy, and living happily ever after. Indeed, a turning point it was. But not in the way I’d imagined, as I tested positive for HIV. I needed to tell this guy, in order for him to get tested, but that was practically the end of it, as all he could give was support, and his interest in me died down.
Of course testing positive threw me off a bit, I admit. But I never strayed too far from the desire to get back into a relationship again. And there have been a lot of guys who I thought I got along well with... well enough to imagine having a relationship with them.
Of course, at this point, one primary requirement would be that they know my status. It’s part of me now. Package deal. I can’t say that it’s been the deal-breaker in all cases. But at times when it’s not, I can’t help but think it’s just pity that’s taking these guys over. All the more when they eventually fade away. Am I lucky that I have HIV to blame?
There are a few, though, who I have perfect chemistry with, and who have absolutely no problem with my HIV status. But sadly, we seem to always be... uhm, geographically-challenged. Sigh.
So with all that, I’m still miserably single. Okay, maybe not miserably single. Just single. Inggit lang ako, bakit ba?
So now, my dilemma. Now I’m not speaking of anyone in particular, okay, mostly because there is no one in particular to speak of. Consider this an open letter.
Considering that you love someone, you’d like to see him or her happy. Seeing him or her happy makes you happy. You want the best for that person you care for. But what if you don’t feel that you’re the best one? What if you know that person will be happier with someone else? Can you be truly, truly happy for him or her?
‘Tang inang pag-ibig yan, o.
Okay, emo ends here. Hehehe.
Sunday, April 05, 2009
My Love Bus
When Australian band Bachelor Girl came up with their debut hit Buses and Trains back in the 90s, I instantly fell in love with the song. With a chorus of lyrics that went...
So I walked under a bus
I got hit by a train
Keep falling in love
Which is kinda the same
I've sunk out at sea
Crashed my car, gone insane
And it felt so good
I want to do it again
... I just thought this was the perfect ode to describe the hopeless romantic that I can be at times. Inspired, both by the song and some things that have been going on in my life in the past months, I came up with my own pathetic attempt at a love rhyme. Here goes.
Down a dusty old path, baring body and soul
Like a trek with no end, it had taken its toll
I got used to walking with no one at my side
When you turned 'round the corner and offered a ride
Stared into your lights down to each shiny hub
Felt my heart skip a beat and I knew it was love
Hesitant at first to take a hitch like a whore
Now I can't help but wish there’s still room for one more
Just when I got so used to your soft comfy seat
You just left me wondering where and when we'll next meet
Are you gonna reroute or splash mud to the shin
Honestly I'd rather you stop and say "Hop in"
You said you'd be coming this way again real soon
Are you gonna slow down or fly by with a vroom?
You know where to find me, I got nowhere to go
Trying not to expect and yet can’t help but hope
It's lonely being "me", I would rather be "us"
I'll still be waiting...
Waiting for my big Love Bus
No, I'm not in love with a bus, a bus driver nor a bus conductor. There's such a thing as a metaphor, 'ya know! Don't bother asking who or what exactly triggered this... please? Whether my Love Bus picks me up or just runs me over, my biggest consolation is that I'm happy to realize I'm still capable of loving. Just take my emo-ness as you see it. Thank you. Bow.
Lecheng pag-ibig 'to...
Thursday, November 06, 2008
License to Drama
Since being immersed in the world of HIV more than six months ago, I’ve been lucky enough to be given little chances to try my hand at counseling – talking with others who are dealing with HIV. Some who are about to get tested, some who are waiting for results, some who’ve just tested positive, some who’ve just tested negative, some who are concerned about medications, and some who have been living with HIV. I can’t say I’ve seen it all, but I’ve seen a lot. And I think it’s dealing with the emotions which is the toughest thing.
I’ve said before how the HIV bomb being dropped on you can be a really daunting thing. It is, it is. But does it give you all the right to be a bottomless supply of depression and negativity? Is HIV a license to drama?
Well, let’s be realistic. To some extent, it is. A string of days crying, feeling lost, not knowing what to do, worrying about how it will affect the rest of your life, being angry, wallowing in paranoia… all common things. Sometimes they come in phases, one after the other, but if you have it really bad, they hit you with one big blow. Again, common, but I repeat, only to some extent.
So when does it become too much? I think you just gotta listen to yourself. If you’re in the dark about HIV, then do something about it. Read up. If you’re worrying about how it will affect the rest of your life, go to a fortune teller. How your life goes will actually be all up to you. If you’re angry because someone infected you, then go ahead and point your finger. It took two to tango, didn’t it? If you’re paranoid, get over yourself. The world doesn’t revolve around you.
Sound harsh? Well, that’s usually what it takes to snap you back into reality. You need to get over all the negativity. It’s all just going to cause you suffering, which is totally unhealthy and unnecessary. You need to get it all out of your system and realize that it’s not the end of the world. Life goes on. And open your eyes and see that so many people are willing to help you through this new phase of your life.
How bad can it all get? I think the worst would be someone who tests positive for HIV and is unwilling to get the help needed and has lost the desire to live. Someone who thinks "I wanna die! I wanna die! I wanna die!" Who isn’t going to die? We’ll all get there eventually, with or without HIV. For this person, some higher being might appear before him and say, "Your wish is my command." Zap. The End. To state the irony, this person might actually die just waiting for his death, which is a sad life.
A close second may be someone who is about to get tested and can’t eat, can’t sleep, can’t stop worrying, or worse, can’t stop crying about it. It’s taxing to have to point out that they haven’t actually tested positive yet. Suck it up! Take responsibility! You wouldn’t need this test if you didn’t take the risk, would you? And if I was caught on a particularly bitchy day, be prepared. You’re getting tested for HIV. I already have HIV. Wanna trade places?
I know, I can be tough sometimes. But sometimes, that’s what it takes. The world is even lucky that I’m not the confrontational type, and am content with merely letting thoughts like this brew in my twisted mind, or go no further than my fingers doing the walking.
But nonetheless, the reality is that HIV should no longer be regarded as a terminal illness or a killer disease. HIV is still a big deal. But it can be dealt with. We can still work. We can still love. We can still laugh. We can still live.
Your license is hereby revoked. So go on, quit the drama, and live.
